A Better Man
by PhaetonLane
Summary: I wrote most of this over the summer, when fans were speculating about whether Meredith or Chet would die. I thought it would be Meredith  we all know how that turned out , and that her death would bring Rick, Kate, and Alexis closer, more quickly.


A Better Man

Beckett looked at Josh when she heard the knock at the door. "Who could that be? And why didn't they use the buzzer outside?"

She looked into the peephole and found Castle standing there, then twisted the deadbolts to unlock the door. "What are you doing here? It's late. What's wrong?" she asked, looking at his face. He wore a two-day stubble, his eyes looked dull, his jaw tense.

"Hey. I probably should have called first. Are you alone?" He looked past her to the living room and saw Josh. "Stupid question." He tried to meet her gaze but didn't seem to have the strength.

"How did you get in without using the buzzer?" she asked.

"Oh, one of your neighbors is a—"

"Fan, right," she said along with him. "What's wrong?" she asked again. "You don't look well. Come in, it's all right," she said, glancing to Josh. "Castle, I think you've met Josh." She gestured to him.

"Yes, hi." Castle extended his hand to him, a thin smile on his lips.

"Right, yeah, hello again." Josh brought up his hand in greeting.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I . . . I need to talk to you," he said. He looked at Josh. "I'm sorry to come so late but—"

"Hey, that's OK." Josh answered for her. "I was just about to get into bed anyway." He turned to Beckett. "I have some work to catch up on, so I'll wait for you," he said. Castle looked away as Josh gave her a quick kiss on the lips. He walked to the bedroom and shut the door.

Beckett gestured to the sofa, then made her way to the club chair next to him and sat down. "What did you want to talk to me about?" She tried to keep her voice even, because the awkwardness of him being there with Josh in her bed unnerved her a bit.

He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry for intruding on your personal life. But I couldn't think of anyone else I wanted to talk to about this except you."

She was struck by the fact that he had apologized for his behavior twice in less than five minutes.

"It's about Alexis." He took a deep breath. "She's having a very hard time with her mother's death. She cries on and off, sometimes for no reason that's apparent to me. She's been churlish with me and others. Her grades are off. I think this all stems from Meredith's death, and it's only been a few weeks, but I thought by now she would have bounced back somewhat—you know, laugh at my jokes even a little. Have some good days and bad days. But I see only bad days. And I don't know what to do." His voice sounded small, lost. "Was it like that for you?"

Kate sighed. Castle's description of Alexis's behavior was classic in its breath and scope. The crying jags, the acting out, the sounding off. She lived through all of it and more. Even at this point in her life, years later, the loss of her mother sometimes pressed on her chest like a frigid hand. "Castle . . . , Rick . . . , you need to give her more time. She died, what, sometime after Labor Day? And it's only late October. You have to be more patient with her." She rarely called him by his first name, but she thought it might soften her somewhat matter-of-fact words. "Since I've known you, from your descriptions of Alexis, she has often shown such remarkable poise and common sense. And other than your divorces, it seems as if she hasn't had to deal with any real crises."

Castle looked at her briefly, then cast his eyes downward again. "Well, that's not quite true," he said. "She had some issues with Gina when we were married." He stopped for a second. He finally turned his eyes toward hers. "I was hoping that, given your experiences, you might talk with her. Tell what you went through. Listen to her. Give her some hope." He paused and said, "I can't seem to say the words to her that will make her Alexis again."

Kate stared at him. The light in the room reflected what she thought were tears in his eyes. She reached out and put her hand on his knee. "Would you like some coffee? It wouldn't take long to make."

"Yeah, I would love some," he said with some relief in his voice, and he smiled at her.

She padded to the galley kitchen, Castle following her inside. He quietly asked where she stored the coffee mugs, and she pointed to the cabinet in the corner. She filled the coffeemaker with grounds and water, then pressed the Start button. She crossed around him, brushing his arm, to get a small tray and put spoons, the mugs, and a hand-painted sugar bowl on top. He turned and opened the refrigerator door, finding the milk. She took the carton from him and poured some into a small whiteware pitcher. A few minutes later, the coffee was ready. Kate filled the two mugs and carried the tray into the living room, placing it on an ottoman near the club chair.

Beckett took a sip of her coffee. She never saw Castle this quiet before. _He must be feeling some sense of loss_, too, she thought. _After all, he was once married to Meredith._ "Castle, I don't know whether I can be of help to her. My greatest fear is that whatever I say to her will make her feel worse."

"I don't think that's possible," he replied, his eyes on hers. "Alexis respects you. Admires you. She knows how your mother died. Granted, the ways in which they died are different. But Meredith was ripped away from Alexis in an instant, just as yours was. Isn't the pain from that similar?" Knowing how sensitive Beckett was about her mother's death, Castle was trying to tiptoe around it, but to him, the comparisons were obvious. He stopped and put the mug to his lips, concerned that he had touched a nerve.

"What about a therapist?" she went on. "Have you talked with her about seeing a professional? That helped me in some ways."

"We did, but she doesn't want to go yet. She says she can work through it herself, but I don't see that happening anytime soon." He sank back into the sofa. "That's why I've come to you."

From the bedroom, Josh listened to their conversation, the door open just enough to catch words that he could patch together. He sensed an urgency in Castle's voice, almost a pleading. He also noticed that, although Kate was still sitting in the chair, her body was arched toward Castle's, bent at the waist, attentive to what he was saying. The subject matter may have been difficult, but Josh could see how easily the conversation flowed between them, how much history they shared together. He gently closed the door, climbed into bed, and waited.

"Does she know you're here?" Beckett asked.

"No. She's at Ashley's this evening. She should be home now. But she and I have already discussed this, and she's willing to talk to you and hear what you have to say."

Kate finally sat back in her chair. It was obvious to her that Castle was serious in his attempt to help his daughter in any way he could. And she knew without doubt the deep, overwhelming sorrow that gripped Alexis. "When would you like me to meet with her?"

Castle sat up, a small spark in his eyes. "You'll do it? Really? Wow. I don't know what to say, except thank you."

"Well, don't thank me yet, Castle. As I said, I don't want to make the situation worse than it is," Beckett said.

"Maybe you could come over for dinner one evening," Castle said. "Maybe that would put everyone at ease."

"Do you think she would want to talk with me alone?" she asked.

Castle stopped for a moment. He wondered whether this suggestion was more for her benefit than for Alexis's. He knew the subject was still an emotional mine field for her. "That's completely up to you and her. Whatever you're both comfortable with. I owe you, Kate." He looked at her with genuine appreciation. "I can get tickets to _A Little Night Music_, maybe. The three of us." He paused, reconsidering. "Josh, too . . . Or maybe just you and . . . Josh."

She smiled at him. "That's not necessary, Castle. I'd be happy to help if I can."

Their conversation veered in other directions—a revival of a Mamet play Off-Broadway, some of their favorite old movies (_The Third Man_ for Castle; _All About Eve_ for Beckett), the best sushi in New York, Alexis's college applications.

When Castle left, it was close to two a.m. Beckett quietly climbed into bed, hoping not to wake Josh, who waited until sleep came to him before she did. Beckett may have come back to the room, to their bed, but she was in another place.

After speaking with Alexis the next evening, Castle invited Beckett to come for dinner a week later, a Friday. Luckily, her caseload was light, so she was able to devote some time to what she would say to the girl. But she had some difficulty explaining her evening out to Josh.

"I don't understand why he's asking you to do this, Kate. You're not a social worker. He could easily find a shrink to help her," Josh had said. "He's just trying to get closer to you. Still trying to get you in the sack, you know?"

"Whoa, that's quite a leap," she had replied. "Alexis is clearly hurting. I've been there. He thinks I can help. I don't think there's any sinister motive here, Josh. Besides, he's back with his ex-wife."

"Well, just remember," Josh said as he wrapped his arms around her. "You may be there for Alexis, but I'm here for you."

"Alexis, can you hand me that peeler, please? I want to slice some provolone to put on the pasta." He held the cheese in his palm and started to peel the chunk into ribbons, but the provolone flew out of his hand, skidded onto the dining table, and then to the floor. "Wow. Did you see that take off?" he said, laughing. "I think there's more cheese in the fridge."

"Dad, are you nervous or something? You seem a little more excited than your usual excitable self," Alexis said. She tossed the errant cheese in the garbage.

Castle went to the refrigerator to retrieve another wedge of cheese. He took a couple of gulps of his merlot, thinking that might help calm him. "No, no. I'm just hoping that the evening goes well, that's all. I think this is the first time Kate . . . Beckett . . . has accepted a dinner invitation here. So . . . the pressure is on a bit, maybe." He took another swig of wine, unsure whether that was really the reason for his mini-freakout. He did want the talk to go well, of that much he was sure. But Kate's agreement to help Alexis—and, for that matter, him—made Castle believe that she at least valued their friendship. If there was some feeling beyond that, well . . . he wasn't sure at this point. Gina may have been at a publishing conference in D.C., but he still felt her presence tonight like a twenty-pound barbell on his chest. And Josh. Castle was unable to read any clues from Beckett last week about the intensity of their relationship. Right now, Castle's emotions felt caught in a blender.

Beckett arrived about ten minutes later, a bottle of red Chianti in hand. "Alexis sent me a text message that said we were having Italian, so I thought this was appropriate," she said, eyeing the boiling kettle of water.

"Very appropriate, Detective. Thank you," Castle replied. He turned to Alexis. "And where did you get Detective Beckett's number?"

"From your cell phone," she said.

"Hope you didn't find my dial-a-porn numbers."

"No, but I did dial Madam Baroushka, the fortune teller."

"And what did she have to say?"

"She said that I'm going through a dark time right now."

"In her mind, the 'dark time' could be a death, a breakup, or the heartbreak of psoriasis," Castle replied. He turned to Beckett. "Hope you like marinated artichokes."

"Yes, thank you." She looked around the loft. "Is Gina joining us?" She hoped that sounded casual enough.

"She's at a publishing convention in Washington," he said. "She'll be back on Monday, I think," he said as he looked down to pour the penne into a colander to drain.

"With any luck, she'll stay longer," Alexis muttered as she turned to put the utensils and napkins on the table.

Castle heard her remark and glanced at Beckett to see whether she did, too, but she was on the other side of the kitchen island getting the wine glasses and didn't seem to notice. He tossed the penne in a large ceramic bowl along with the artichoke hearts, olive oil, chunks of freshly cooked tuna, and a handful of fresh basil.

"I keep promising myself I'll cook more," Beckett said, heading to the table. "No excuses, just too lazy, I guess."

"So you and Josh opt for takeout?" Castle asked, wondering whether Josh had cooking skills that could rival his.

"Sometimes. Josh cooks sometimes. I make a good meatloaf," Beckett replied. "But this looks heavenly." She breathed in as Castle set the bowl down in front of her.

During dinner, the conversation flowed freely—about Alexis's schoolwork, Ashley, the cases the team was working on—until they finished the main course. When the discussion headed to the latest styles in shoes, Castle started to clear the table. "Hey, don't get up. I've got this," he said to them. "You two sit and talk."

Kate and Alexis grabbed their drinks and headed toward the sofa, still within earshot of Castle. All through dinner, Kate was trying to find an opening that would segue to the death of Alexis's mom, but she didn't find one until . . .

"My mom loved shoes. Did my dad tell you that she once took me to Paris for an afternoon of shopping?"

"Yes, he did." Beckett paused and said, "You miss her a lot, I'll bet."

Alexis took a deep breath. "Yeah," she sighed, "even though we didn't see each other all that much. Now I regret that."

"Your dad seems to think you've taken this very hard, maybe behaving in ways that you're both not used to."

"Yeah, I guess that's true." She glanced over at her father, who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. "How did you get through your mom's death?" Alexis asked, gazing now at Beckett.

"You know, I had a similar conversation with the daughter of a murder victim sometime ago. She asked me the same question. I told her that you really don't get over it. But at some point, you'll realize that you don't mind carrying it around with you. There's no way to predict when that will be, Alexis. Grief has no timeline, really. I was nineteen when my mother was killed, and I still think about her every day." She took a sip of her wine. She wanted to get the girl talking, hear what she had to say. "What have you been feeling since her death? Anger? Guilt? Sadness?"

"All of those, I guess. I cry over nothing sometimes. Yell at Dad. Gina. So much has changed since the summer."

Castle looked up at Alexis as he turned on the faucet, but she didn't return the glance.

"Alexis, you need to know that what happened is no one's fault—not yours, not your dad's, no one's. And the guilt you feel—that's normal. Blaming yourself for not being with her more often—I mean, I felt guilty for a long time. 'I should have been with her that night. I could have protected her.' But I finally realized there was no point in that. It wasn't going to change anything."

Kate ran her fingers through her hair. "So much of our lives is out of our control. We don't understand this until a tragedy occurs like your mom's death." Beckett put her hand on Alexis's. "All this is fairly easy for me to say 'cause I've lived this already. But I think you're strong enough and smart enough to work through the pain." She looked up at Castle. "I'm sure that your dad, Gina, your grandmother, they'll help you."

"Well, Dad's been trying. But I haven't won any awards for 'best daughter' lately."

"No one expects that from you, sweetie. I don't mind being your punching bag once in a while," Castle said. He held up the coffeepot. "Coffee, Detective?"

"Of course," she answered.

Castle poured the Argentina blend into mugs. Alexis went upstairs a few minutes later to take a call from Ashley. For the first time all night, an awkward silence crept between Castle and Beckett. He looked at her and was struggling—a writer who couldn't articulate what to say. At the moment, he felt like a twelve-year-old with a crush. "I can't thank you enough, Kate. Your thoughtfulness with Alexis . . . it humbles me, really. Not everyone can express that kind of feeling." His voice was soft, wistful even.

Kate looked at him and grinned. "Alexis makes it easy. She's bright and has great insight for a kid her age. It's going to take time, though. When you live through something like this, it affects you deeply. Let's hope her core being is strong enough to withstand this tragedy."

"How are things going between you and Josh?" He couldn't help himself; he just blurted that out without weighing the consequences. Even if she simply answered "fine," he wanted her to know that he cared, especially after the way he left for the summer. "I only ask 'cause I want you to be happy."

"Oh, well, they're . . . fine." She cast her eyes to her coffee, a thin smile crossing her lips. "Josh is fun. He's got me riding a motorcycle again. I haven't done that since I was in college. Things are . . . good . . . for now." She turned to face him. "And you and Gina?"

"We're good. Working on the rough parts that tripped us up before. I'm trying to be a bit more serious about my work, and she's trying to be less so about . . . everything. You know, compromise and all that. Hey, are you going to the launch party?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "It's in two weeks. I already invited the guys. Josh should come, too."

"Maybe. I'll see what his schedule is."

Alexis came down the stairs, her phone conversation over for now. "Oh, good, you're still here." She took a seat next to Beckett.

"Well, it's late, and I've got to get going. But I want you to know, Alexis, that if you want to talk again, I'd be more than happy to listen. And please call me 'Kate.'"

"Thanks, Kate. I'll walk you to the elevator."

"OK." She faced Castle, who was on the other side of the dining table. "Castle, I'll see you at the precinct at some point. And thanks for dinner." She turned quickly and walked with Alexis to the door.

"Detect . . . Kate, wait a minute." He walked quickly to her as she stopped and turned again. He couldn't let her go without showing her, in at least a small way, how he felt about her coming to help, how he felt about her. He pulled her toward him, and she thought she smelled the lingering summer sun on his neck. She reached her arms around his back. "Thank you" is all he said.

"You're welcome, Rick."

They dropped their arms, and Alexis, smiling, led Kate to the elevator.

Kate put her arm around the girl's shoulders as they walked down the hallway. "Your dad worries about you, Alexis. Especially now. I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

Alexis stopped and turned to her. "Kate, I've never seen him like this, either. I'm sad about my mother, yes, but it's not just that. It's Gina," she said, her words spilling out. "He's twisting into a pretzel for her and I don't recognize him anymore. He's much more serious about everything, especially when she's around. He doesn't joke anymore. She put a stop to the poker games he used to have with Connelly and the others. We haven't played laser tag in ages. He's been so introspective lately, I can't seem to get through."

Her words stunned Beckett. "Well, . . . you know, he may be sad over your mom's death, too. He did love her at one point, you know."

"I don't think that's it," Alexis replied. "He hasn't been happy since he came back from the Hamptons, before Mom's death. Even Gram has noticed it. He's more himself when he's with you. Maybe you can talk with him. I want my dad back."

_I've heard this before_, Kate said to herself, _only the names have been switched_. Beckett pushed the elevator button. "Alexis, I don't know if that's a good idea. Between your dad and me, it's complicated. And you may not understand the complete picture of his relationship with Gina. If what you're saying is true, I don't think I should get involved in that. He's a big boy. If he's unhappy or confused, he'll figure it out."

"He talks about you all the time, you know," Alexis said, her eyes on Kate's.

Kate closed hers, trying to push the girl's words away. She opened them to see the elevator doors pull apart and stepped in quickly. "I can't promise I'll talk with him, Alexis. But I'm here for you if you need me."

Castle and Gina had arrived from the Hamptons the day after Labor Day, and it took only two days for her to receive their first party invitation of the season—from Henry Oliver. She and Oliver had worked together about a decade ago when both were editors at another publishing firm. Oliver left several years later to build his own publishing company—coffee-table books and the like. And he had some of his own work published, mostly literary criticism. Castle often thought that Henry had yearned to be a member of the Algonquin Round Table, the way he often quoted Dorothy Parker, Harold Ross, and other members of the group. But, unfortunately for him, Oliver was a child of the seventies and a mite too late.

"Of course, we're going, right? You like Henry and Elena. We used to spend Thanksgiving together in North Carolina, remember?" Gina said to Castle as they and Alexis ate dinner on Thursday. "It's this Saturday."

He looked at Alexis. "Saturday? Hmm, isn't that the day we usually go to a baseball game, the Saturday before school starts?"

Alexis looked up from her salmon. "Yep, usually. That's been the tradition," she said with a half smile.

"Aren't Saturday baseball games in the afternoon? I mean, the party is in the evening," Gina countered.

"Well, sometimes," Castle replied. "I think the Yankee game is at one. But we usually make a whole day of it—you know, dinner out, then Serendipity for ice cream."

Gina looked at Castle. "Oh, Richard, I think it would be good to go to this. Henry is doing some remarkable things with his Web site, and I think he's invited his new Web guy to the party. We could get some insights into how to build your brand on the Internet."

"That sounds more like a publisher function than a writer function," Castle said. "You could find out more from—"

"But I think it would be helpful for you to understand what your role would be in that, Richard," she said. "Besides, there'll be other school years."

"Really? Gina, this is her senior year of high school. Everything changes after this. I realize the importance of Web sites now, but—"

"Dad, it's OK," Alexis said. "We can go tomorrow. I think it's a night game, but it doesn't matter. We'll start a new tradition."

He cast his head down and sighed, then looked up at Alexis. "Well, . . . I guess. If it's OK with you. Thanks for being the grown-up here. I was planning to call the precinct, but it can wait until next week."

The Olivers' party was well underway when Castle and Gina arrived. Henry offered Castle a tumbler of single-malt scotch and a glass of Chardonnay to Gina. "Hey, you still tailing that detective, Rick? How deep is the research going?" he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"It's not like that, Henry. They take their work very seriously, and so do I."

"That doesn't sound like you, Rick. Where's the fun in that?"

"I'm trying to strike a balance. You doing any writing of your own these days?" he asked Henry as they took seats near the bar.

"Nah, too busy. The industry is in such chaos these days, I'm not sure where we're headed. I mean, I understand the appeal of books online, but I'm not sure what it means for the kind of books I publish." He took a gulp of his scotch. "I admire you writers for your focus and grit. I simply can't do it anymore. As Dorothy Parker once said, 'I hate writing, but I love having written.'"

Henry motioned to a dark-haired, bearded man who was coming toward them. "Hey, Rick, I want you to meet Mark Kleinfeld, our new Web guy. Mark, Richard Castle, the author."

"A pleasure. I'm a fan," said Kleinfeld, extending his hand to Castle.

"Thanks. And you're the Web guru, I hear. My publisher, Gina Cowell, wants to pick your brain, I think."

"You think he knows about Web design?" said Henry. "He knows even more about stocks. He bought Apple decades ago at, what, Mark, thirty-five? And what is it now, close to three hundred?"

"Something like that," Mark said.

"How's your stock portfolio these days, Rick?" Henry asked.

"Uh, OK, I guess. My broker and accountant take care of that stuff. I've only been interested in Alexis's college fund these past few years. That seems to be going pretty well."

"You know," said Henry, sliding his arm over Rick's shoulders, "the best tip I've heard lately is Branson's intergalaxy travel company."

"Oh, yeah. Now, that would be beyond cool. I've got to look into that. To live that fantasy, enter deep space, I might have to raid Alexis's fund for that."

"No, I didn't mean to ride into space. I meant investing in the company," Henry said. "Space travel? That's crazy stuff. Who'd want to do that?"

_I would in a heartbeat_, Castle thought. "Yeah, well . . ."

"How about a fresh drink, Rick?" Henry asked.

"Good idea."

Castle spoke with Kleinfeld for a while, then took his scotch and walked over to Gina, who was concentrating on Elena Oliver's harangue about her daughter, Sydney. "Of course, tattoos—that seems to be a rite of passage these days," said Elena. "But I'm more concerned about the drinking. She's obviously too young to buy her own. So she's been stealing from our bar. I know it. We had to restock almost all the Grey Goose for the party."

Gina nodded her head. "Alexis's new kick is the Vespa, and her new boyfriend, Ashley—not necessarily in that order. She and Richard compromised about the Vespa. He's buying one—some compromise—and she'll ride it occasionally."

"Hey, I thought it was a good compromise," Castle said. "Never thought I'd own one. You know me—always love to try new things."

"Let's talk about old things for a minute," Elena said, looking at Castle and Gina. "I was thinking. Now that you two are back together, maybe we can revive that old tradition of spending Thanksgiving together at our house in the Outer Banks. Henry thinks it's a great idea. What do you say?"

"Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful, Richard?" Gina turned to Castle, placing her hand on his arm. "Like old times."

Castle's eyes fixed on Gina, then Elena, then back to Gina, feeling like a fish caught on a line. "Um, well, Alexis, Mother, and I have spent Thanksgiving in the Hamptons. That's been our tradition for many years. We were hoping to continue that with you now, of course," he said, a thin smile aimed at Gina.

"But the Outer Banks are especially lovely at that time, if I remember correctly, right, Elena?" she said, turning to her friend.

"Yes, yes," Elena replied.

"I do love the old traditions we had, Richard, don't you?"

"Some, yes," he said, sighing. "Gina and I will talk about this," he said, looking at Elena, "and we'll let you know." He drained his drink as he looked into the crowd, avoiding Gina's stare.

The cab cruised downtown to Castle's loft. The launch-party meeting with Paula, Gina, and the hotel meeting planners went well but ended after dark, and Castle sunk back now into the seat, his mind wandering. Party planning was not his thing, but Gina insisted. And as part of his campaign to compromise, he had agreed to attend the meet.

Gina. What was he going to do about Gina? She knew publishing, for that he was grateful—and that always gave them something to talk about. She was beautiful, ambitious, focused—the attributes that made her a great businesswoman. _She can be fun when she tries_, he thought.

But Beckett brought something more to his world. She challenged him, refused to take his antics without a fight. And there was something else. _What makes her different?_ Castle asked himself. Was it simply the newness? That she wasn't easily impressed with him? She certainly had showed a more playful side over the past months.

The street lights flashed like strobes on his face as the cab hurtled past them down Broadway, the traffic thin at this late hour. He remembered when Demming asked him whether anything was going on between him and Beckett. Castle had longed to say yes, but he stepped aside, confused about his feelings for her and unclear about what she had really thought of him. And now Josh. _She's still searching_, he thought. _Maybe there's still a chance._

As the cab slowed a few minutes later and the tires scraped the curb, he knew the answer to his question. The fare meter flashed $27.50. Castle fished two bills from his pocket—a fifty and a hundred. He stuffed the hundred-dollar bill into the slot and flipped it to the driver's side. "Keep the change," he said as he stepped out of the car.

Castle reached for another glass of champagne. He had already signed scores of books, chests (both female and male), cocktail napkins, cigarette packs, even toilet paper. Gina thought the launch-party crowd was impressive, considering the economy and the state of flux the publishing industry found itself in these days. "We'll get the book up electronically," Gina had said weeks ago. "It's in the contract. You should read it one of these days. Let's first see if those adoring fans of yours still want print."

Since the Nikki Heat series started, he'd noticed more men attending readings, sending e-mails to his fan site asking for Beckett's cell phone number. His work, his life had changed in a big way, and he was grateful to her. Hell, he dedicated _Naked Heat_ to her alone. He had wanted to say more, but given the circumstances under which he left for the summer, he wanted to keep the dedication simple but heartfelt.

_Where is she?_ he asked himself. And the others—his partners in crime. He saw his mother and Paula making conversation with the guests as Alexis sidled up to him. "Hey," he asked her, "have you seen Beckett . . . and the others from the 12th?"

"She just texted me. They'll be here in five," Alexis answered.

"Wait. She texted you and not me?"

"Well, now we know our rankings in Beckett's world, don't we?" Alexis replied. She kissed him on the cheek. "You're still number one with me, though."

"Thanks," he said, turning to face her. "I should be. Remember, there are few scholarships to be had at those Ivy League schools."

"Oh, here she is now," Alexis said, gesturing to the door, "with entourage."

Castle raised his head slightly over the guests in front of him, using them to block Beckett's view so she couldn't see him staring. Her looks stunned him—her hair was pulled up in a French twist, a few wisps of hair dancing on her forehead. A black lace dress, skimming her body and ending a couple of inches above the knee, revealed her bare arms and shoulders. Her red-polished toes peeked out of four-inch-high sandals. Following her were Lanie, Esposito, Ryan, and Captain Montgomery, with Josh at the rear.

He couldn't wait for her to approach, so taking the last slug of champagne from his glass, he walked quickly to her and his friends. "Wow, you all came. I'm deeply touched. Thank you," he said as he extended his hand to Beckett and kissed her quickly on the cheek. He kissed Lanie, too, to avoid any questions or remarks, then shook everyone's hand. Josh stepped toward Beckett as Alexis came from behind Castle and threw her arms around the detective, squealing her approval of her dress.

"Man, what a shindig. I'll have my dinner here," said Captain Montgomery, rubbing his hands together and making his way to the buffet table.

"Sorry to admit it, but my publisher's cut costs this year. Instead of caviar, we're serving liver pâté, Call it what you want, but it's still chopped liver to me. The bubbly is still flowing, but it's domestic, not French," he stage-whispered to the group.

"As long as my friend Bud is here, I'm a happy man," said Esposito.

"Right this way," said Castle, pointing to the bar.

"Which reminds me. I'm having Ryan and a couple of other guys over from the precinct for a poker game next week," Esposito said to Castle. "No big stakes. Not like your writer boys. But fun stuff, some laughs, a few drinks. What do you say?"

"I'm in, Javi. Thanks for asking," Castle replied as he grabbed Esposito around the shoulders.

Before they followed Castle, Gina came up to greet them. "Hello, everyone." She offered a tight smile. "So glad you could make it." She tilted her head to Castle's ear. "OK, so they're all here now," she said, referring to the detectives. "Can we get started, before everyone leaves?"

"Yes, of course." Castle turned to the group. "Hey, guys, get a drink and then come up front. I'm going to make a fool of myself in front of everyone."

They trailed him to the edge of the crowd. Gina was already standing at the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. Thank you for being here tonight. Two years ago, with the death of Derrick Storm, little did we know that a detective heroine called Nikki Heat would take the mystery novel world by storm—no pun intended. Black Pawn is proud to announce that the first Nikki Heat title, _Heat Wave_, has sold more copies than even the first Derrick Storm novel," Gina said to applause. "So we have high hopes for Nikki Heat's next adventure. And here to tell you about it, still the master of the macabre, Richard Castle."

An enthusiastic audience welcomed Castle as he bounded to the podium, smiling. "Thank you, thanks very much. I had some prepared notes, which my publisher preapproved." He took some papers out of his breast pocket. "But I don't think I'm going to use these," he said as he put them back quickly. "This new series means a lot to me. Writing is a solitary endeavor, but many of you know that I've been lucky enough to follow several of the detectives from the 12th Precinct to gain some insight into their work, and—well, two things. Following them has helped broaden my experiences—to talk with real people, some of them living through tragic, life-changing loss and grief. And I'm so grateful to these detectives to allow me to tag along with them. The second thing I want to say is that these detectives do everything they can to make things right for victims' families. That sometimes means painstaking, detailed work, often when most of us are asleep, often dangerous work. I'm proud to know these detectives—and I think of them as my friends. I can only hope they think of me in the same way." Castle saw Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie smile broadly. "In fact, instead of boring you with anything else, I'd like to introduce them to you. Come up here, guys."

The five turned to each other and smiled, then stepped to the front of the podium, beaming as the audience applauded. Castle arranged everyone so Beckett was last in line and closest to him. "OK, starting from my far left, we have Dr. Lanie Parish, medical examiner; Captain Roy Montgomery, who heads the team; Detective Javier Esposito; Detective Kevin Ryan; and last but certainly never least," he said, taking Beckett's hand and holding it at arm's length, "is the woman who inspires me to be a better writer—indeed, a better man—Detective Kate Beckett." He pressed the back of her hand to his lips.

Kate's eyes melted onto his. She felt almost lightheaded as she mouthed "thank you" to him, the sound of applause filling her ears.

Gina looked around at the happy faces of the audience. She clapped politely in front of the crowd—but with the stinging feeling that she had just lost her ex-husband.

It was around eleven when the launch party ended and Martha took Alexis home. But Castle, the detectives, and Josh brought their own, more intimate party to the hotel tapas bar, where Castle ordered a round of drinks and food samplings for everyone. Lots of banter went back and forth, and Montgomery waited for everyone to have glasses in hand, then said, "Castle, I think I speak for everyone when I say we're grateful for your keen insight and crime-solving abilities, and we wish you much success with _Naked Heat_."

"Yeah, 'cause we want to attend more parties like this," said Ryan to laughter.

"Let's hope the mayor gets reelected next year," Esposito added. "I still get a kick out of how much trouble you get into sometimes."

Added Kate, giggling, "To this day, the image of you running—"

"—shoeless in the alley," she and Castle said simultaneously—

"—after Tisdale's son is still priceless," Kate finished. "And remember when we were closing in on that Caribbean guy and your cell phone rang with that—"

"'Dad-Dad-Dad' ring, right," said Castle, chuckling and ducking his head in embarrassment. "Hey, I was a rookie then. I've gotten better, don't you think?"

The group went on like this, reminiscing and joking, until well after midnight. Gina had joined them around eleven thirty, after she and her assistants had remained behind to discuss the bill with the hotel's event coordinator. She stayed at the bar long enough to hear about the little girl's staged kidnapping and the backpacks that all looked the same, then flagged a cab to her condo. Josh, meanwhile, laughed along with them, but at the same time knowing that he would remain a foreigner in this part of Kate's universe.

"You were pretty quiet in the cab," Beckett said to Josh as she took off her coat and threw it on the sofa.

"I guess so. A lot to take in tonight," he said.

"Did you enjoy the party?" she asked, heading toward the kitchen. "How about some coffee?"

"No, thanks. None for me," he called from the living room, hands in his pockets.

She poked her head in the doorway. "No?" Kate noticed him standing in the middle of the room. "Did you like the party?" she asked again, her eyes darting from Josh to the sofa. "What's wrong? Sit down."

"No, I don't think so. And I think you know what's wrong."

She stared at him, then looked away quickly. "No, I don't know. Can you tell me?"

"You don't really want my help in sorting out your feelings, do you, Kate? Aren't you grown up enough to know?"

She took a breath, started to say something, then paused. "I . . . I wonder sometimes," she said softly.

"Let me give you one clue," he said as he slowly walked toward her. "That look on your face when you see Castle gives it all away. You say you're a good poker player? Well, you're not, sweetheart. Not in this game. Not even close."

Kate closed her eyes and sighed. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"I'm not sure if it is to him—he's so full of himself." Josh snorted. "But it is to me. And I'm the hurt party." He stood in front of her now.

"Josh, I didn't want—"

"Look, no harm, no foul," he said, holding up his hands. "We haven't been together all that long for me to feel as if I've been kicked in the teeth by this. Maybe just a glancing blow to the jaw." He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"I seem to be hurting people I truly care about, because I can't seem to make up my mind."

"You're mind _is_ made up, Kate. You know what to do. You just need the courage to do it."

"What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?" she said. Her face flushed, embarrassed for saying aloud one of her deepest fears.

"With that speech tonight? I think he's a goner. But if I'm wrong? . . . You're strong, Kate. You'll move on."

It was close to two o'clock in the morning, and sleep did not come for Beckett. After Josh packed his toiletries and the clothes he kept at her apartment, she poured some merlot and drew a bath. Lying in the tub, bubbles pinging apart, she pressed the cool glass against her cheek. There'd be no more diversions, no other men to help her push her true feelings aside. "I'm in love with Rick Castle," she said aloud. _There, I said it,_ she thought. He lit up her world like a pinball machine. She knew it. She loved his playfulness, his sense of fun, his dedication to his mother and daughter, his intelligence, his thoughtfulness. And, yes, that speech. Kate was grateful that Castle gave credit to Lanie, the Captain, and the boys to the crowd. And his acknowledgment of her left her breathless.

He had changed for the better, Kate could see. He was still as silly and self-confident as the day they had met, but he had grown to realize that the lives of everyday people are often filled with hardship, cruelty, and loss. He no longer observed life from his ivory-tower loft.

And she also realized that his behavior toward her had changed as well. His sexual innuendos aimed in her direction had diminished over the past year. Now their banter consisted mostly of poking fun at each other. Did she lose his interest, she thought, or gain his respect?

She knew her epiphany couldn't have come at worse time, with Castle and Gina back together for act 2. What purpose could her feelings serve now, she wondered, other than disappointment? But this love for him was rooted in something deeper: she wanted Castle to be truly happy. And if their relationship went no further, his happiness would have to be enough. If she wasn't going to be the one to make him happy, then, as Josh told her, she'd have to accept that and move forward.

_But, God, that would hurt like hell_, she thought. She paused for a few seconds. _I need to talk with Lanie._

By seven thirty, Alexis had already left for school. Still in his bed clothes, Castle sat at the kitchen island, staring into his mug of coffee, head in both hands. He may have moved from his bedroom to the kitchen, but he felt immobile, unable to step in the direction he wanted to go: to Kate. He was deeply, undeniably in love with her. He would melt into a puddle right in front of her if she would simply offer him the possibility that she felt the same way.

"Richard, dear, the answer is not in your coffee cup," said Martha as she entered the kitchen.

"What's the question?" Castle asked, looking up.

"Well, there are several questions, if you ask me—and since you have, they are: How do I tell Kate about my feelings for her? Do I really love Gina? If I don't, how do I break it off with her without hurting her?"

"Am I that much of an open book?"

"Darling, the book is written all over your face, and it was especially evident last night. That speech! That would make any woman swoon with delight or, in Gina's case, feel her blood turn cold."

"Well, I meant it."

"Then why don't you go after her?" she asked, sitting next to him.

"Mother, she's with someone else now."

"That's never stopped you before. When you first met Gina, wasn't she dating someone when you started turning on the charm?"

"Yes, but with Kate, it's different. She's . . . she's different," Castle blurted, then sighed. "The other women I've met? No one comes close to her. She's smart, gorgeous, relentless, courageous, strong—"

"Look, I agree with you on her qualities. But why is this situation different?"

"Because . . . because I'm afraid I don't measure up in her eyes."

"Richard, I am having difficulty believing what I'm hearing. You're wildly successful, you're thoughtful, fun, caring—"

"I'm afraid she'll reject me, turn me down. I don't think she feels for me what I feel for her. And I also don't think she believes I can be committed to a relationship."

"Richard, I think you're so wrong on this. But regardless of what I think, don't you owe it to yourself to ask? Kate doesn't give away her feelings, from what I've seen of her. She's probably a better poker player than you are. You may have missed some signs."

He took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not being fair to Gina either. I care for her a great deal. She's helped me tremendously with my career. But how can I be with her when I'm in love with someone else?"

"You can't, darling." Martha turned to her son and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Take this chance with Kate. You deserve happiness with someone you truly love. And you are strong enough to withstand her rejection. But my instincts tell me that's something you won't have to face."

Castle looked at his mother and then pulled her close. "Thanks for the pep talk. But those instincts—aren't they the same instincts that told you to trust that thief of an ex-husband?"

"Yes, well, they are more effective for those I love," she replied, slapping his arm.

Around midafternoon, Castle taxied to Gina's condo on Central Park West. He had texted her to find out if she was free to talk, and it happened that she was working at her home office. He didn't want to wait until the evening to discuss this. With his mind made up, he wanted to make the break now. But the cab ride ended too quickly for him to form the words he planned to say to Gina. And the elevator whisked him to her within seconds. He found himself in yet another situation where his words failed him. He realized that no matter how much he wanted to avoid hurting her, someone he cared about, his words would be of little comfort.

"Glad you're here. Let's talk about Thanksgiving," Gina said as she closed the door and walked to the living room sofa. "Elena and Henry want to know if we're joining them."

"No, actually, I didn't want to talk about—"

"Are you still set on going to the Hamptons?"

"Well, yes, but that's not why I'm here."

"What, then. The marketing campaign for the book? Sales figures? What?"

An awkward silence surrounded them. Gina sat on the sofa. Her face softened and her eyes glistened in the windows' light. Castle looked at her. She saw his jaw tighten as he sat next to her, and she sighed. "This isn't going to be good, is it?" she said.

"I . . . I don't think I can continue our relationship anymore."

"Because . . ."

He waited a few seconds, then he said, "Because I'm in love with someone else." He pinched his lips together and looked down at the floor, then he met her gaze again.

She looked away and felt as if a lead weight had descended in her stomach. "This is no surprise for me, Richard. For weeks an eight-hundred-pound gorilla has followed us wherever we go, and we've been trying to ignore it."

"It hasn't just followed us. It's been sitting on us."

She turned to face him. "The way you talk about her. The way you look at her, as if there's no one else around. I noticed it when she came into the party last night and for much of the evening."

"She's with someone else, you know," he said.

"So I should stick around just in case?"

"No, I didn't mean it that way."

"The problem for me is, I want you to look at me the way you look at her." Her voiced tightened as she continued to speak. "And I don't think that will ever happen. It never happened when we were first together. Why should I expect it to happen now? For Chrissakes, you finish each other's sentences."

Castle knew that he could say many things that would appease Gina, but not one of them would be true. "This situation really isn't about Kate or anyone else," he said. "It's really about us."

She looked toward the window at Central Park, tears starting to form in her eyes. A November wind tore a few of the crimson-colored leaves from the oaks that stood against the stone wall.

"I think I've honestly tried to be what you want me to be—more responsible, more serious about my work," he said. "And I've succeeded in some ways. But sometimes I feel as if I'm doing most of the compromising."

"Well, I've tried, too," Gina replied. "I've been trying to make changes in my life to get closer to Alexis. "

"I know, but that's not the only problem, though. For me, this relationship is missing the same things I missed the first time around—the fun, the silliness, the delight of living each day without worrying about the next novel or subrights or which authors are signing with what publishers."

"Life is not always about fun, Richard."

"Gina, you're right, you're absolutely right. But I've worked hard all these years to earn the right to have fun. That was one of my goals and I think I've reached that point. I want to make sure I cram enough into every day so when the crises do come, I don't want to feel denied or cheated. I need balance. Your needs are different from mine, and because of that, our life together gets thrown out of whack."

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to say 'I love you'? 'Cause I do."

"So . . . does that mean you love me enough to break me out of prison?"

"What?"

"Eh, never mind that." Castle pushed back the remark his mother made after he had told her about the nurse who bent every rule he knew to help set free his one true love, and the "I'd get you out" response from Beckett after he and Esposito pondered life in jail. He leaned back into the sofa. "You know, the past two years have also given me a different perspective . . . about my life and those of other people, too. Talking about stock funds, vacations—I mean those are nice things to have, and I'm glad I've worked hard enough to have them, believe me. But those seem so privileged, almost embarrassingly so, when I know people who have few of those things. But they seem relatively happy with their lives. I admire those people, and I'm getting to feel comfortable in their world."

Gina sniffed back tears. "I've known all along that getting back together was going to be a challenge. I just wish you'd give us more time."

"I don't think time is the answer, Gina," he whispered. "No matter what happens with . . . I need to let you go, so you can go where your heart wants. I can't love you the way you want, . . . the way I should."

Gina sighed and said, "Well, thanks for being honest with me, Richard. It doesn't mean I'm not hurting right now."

"Well, we'll still work together, I hope."

She looked at him through her tears. "Damn straight. You still have a contract to uphold." She offered a thin smile.

"You know, if you ever need anything, you know to call me first, right? I care very much about you, Gina." He slid next to her and wrapped her in his arms, squeezing tight.

"I know, Richard. Whatever happens with your detective, I wish good things for you," she replied.

His next stop was the precinct, but Castle crossed the street to the park first and sat on the nearest bench. He loved this time of year, the crisp air, the deep-hued leaves. But at the same time, it often made him introspective, mindful of the changes on the wind. He thought of Kira at that moment, about what went so wrong. When they met by chance last year, before her wedding, she reminded him that, although she had wanted a break from their relationship, she never meant forever. Ultimately, a lack of communication helped destroy his chances with her. _I was just out of my teens then_, he thought. _God, I'm close to forty._ _I want to believe I'm smarter than that now._ No matter what Kate's response would be, he would put his cards on the table. All or nothing. After that, he was simply unable to predict what would happen.

At about four thirty, he stepped off the precinct elevator, eyes scanning the bullpen. Esposito and Ryan were deep in paperwork, but Beckett was not on the floor. "Hey, guys," he called as he walked up to them.

"Castle, what's up?" Esposito said as he glanced from his computer screen. "Hey, great party, man. Thanks for the invite."

"Yeah, thanks, Castle," Ryan said. "I took home some of those shrimp puffs for Jenny. She loves those."

"Hate to see what your pockets look like," Esposito said, smirking. "All that grease."

"My pleasure, guys. Quiet day, I see. No calls from Beckett." Castle turned his head back and forth. "Where is she, by the way?" he said as he looked down at some papers on her desk.

"I think she was doing some cold-case work today. Interviewing some eyewitnesses again. Not sure when she'll be back," Esposito answered.

"Oh," said Castle, his brow furrowed as he sat in front of the detective.

Esposito narrowed his eyes. "Something wrong, Castle?"

"I just . . . broke up with my ex-wife . . . again."

Esposito sat up straight. "Whoa. Seriously? Should I say 'I'm sorry'?"

"Well, you could. But it's for the best, I think."

"Well, why don't you stick around? Ryan and me are going for a drink later. Join us. I'll buy."

"Really?" asked Ryan, who was nearby, listening.

Esposito looked at his partner. "No. You can buy your own."

"Yeah, thanks. I could use a drink. I'll wait in the break room." Castle said, heading for the coffee machine. He pulled out his cell phone to let Alexis know he'd be home later. Esposito's eyes followed Castle into the next room, then he texted Lanie:

Castle broke up w x-wife. Drinx at 5:30.

A few minutes before Castle arrived at the precinct, Beckett had already finished her cold-case interviews and headed straight to the medical examiner's office. She peeked into the ME's autopsy suite but didn't see her friend.

"Lanie?" she called, her voice rising.

"I'm in the closet," Lanie shouted. "Be right there."

Lanie closed the door to the supply closet and spied her friend in the hallway. "Hey, what are you up to?" she said to Beckett.

"Nothing. Just coming back from some cold-case work." Beckett's eyes darted to Lanie, then looked away.

"You know, I may work with cadavers every day, but I can recognize a look of confusion when I see it on a live body. What's the matter?"

She hesitated. If she spills all of this to Lanie, where would this lead? Could she stay strong enough to handle a road filled with what could be regret?

"Kate? What is it?" Lanie almost shouted.

"Josh and I broke up."

"Hallelujah and amen."

"Oh, come on, Lanie."  
"Girl, he wasn't right for you. You already knew that."

"Not really, no. I just needed to work some things out."

"And what conclusions have you come to?" Lanie pressed her.

"I . . . I . . . I don't know."

"Yes you do." Lanie waited.

Beckett sighed, looked down at her shoes. Tears started to form in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "I . . . I'm in love . . . with . . . Castle," she whispered. "He may be childish, self-absorbed at times, but he has qualities that move me, that draw me to him like a moth to . . . a bonfire, for God's sakes. Oh, I don't know what to do, Lanie. He's with Gina now." She couldn't stop now; the release of feeling was almost overpowering. "My timing is terrible. Even if they weren't together, the chances of my getting hurt are so great—"

"You want guarantees? Buy a life insurance policy. Beyond that, there are no guarantees."

She stared at her friend. "Am I crazy?"

"You'd be crazy not to take the chance. Tell him how you feel, honey." Lanie paused, her voice softened as she grabbed Beckett's arms. "At the very least, you can let him know that you care, that you're there for him, whatever happens."

"Yeah. I want him to be happy. That much I know in my heart." She stopped a moment to think. "But even if he were free of Gina, how do I know that he would want to be with me? He's got his pick of that bachelorette list."

"He tried that, remember? That date didn't last through the main course. Everybody sees that he's in love with you, Kate. Why can't you?" Lanie heard a buzz from her cell phone. She reached in her pocket and checked the message from Esposito. She looked up at Beckett. "Well, girl, maybe you will after all." Lanie extended her arm, placing the phone right in front of Beckett's eyes.

"Oh, God," she said as she read the screen. "But he's on the rebound now. It may not be the right time."

"Message says that Castle made the break. What does that tell you? The door is open, honey," said Lanie. "All you have to do is walk through it."

By the time Kate and Lanie reached O'Hara's Tavern, Castle, Ryan, and Esposito were on their second round of beers. Lanie saw them at the end of the bar and walked toward them, then pulled Esposito off to the side to talk. But before Kate saw them, Tom Demming, seated at a table close to the door, caught her in a hug.

Castle put his Corona bottle to his lips, his eyes landing on Beckett and Demming, now sitting at the table. Squeezing in between them, coming out of the crowd, was a blonde-haired woman. She slid her arm around Demming's shoulders. He turned his face to hers and gave the woman a quick kiss on the lips. Beckett smiled at her and extended her hand.

"Hey, look who's with Beckett," Castle called to Ryan, nodding in her direction.

"Guess that's Tom's new girlfriend," Ryan said.

"Yeah." Castled cocked his head. "Wonder what ever happened to them over the summer."

"Beckett never told you, did she," Ryan replied. His cell phone rang. "She dumped him just before you left for the Hamptons that day." He looked at the screen. "Hey, Castle, I've got to take this." He answered the call with a "Hi, hon," then made his way to a corner of the bar.

Castle felt as if Ryan hit him with his Corona. He stared at Beckett, his mind flashing back to that day at the precinct. What had she said to him? "'Can I talk to you for a minute, Castle? I know I'm a hard person to get to know, but—'" then . . . Gina.

After a few more words to Beckett, Demming and his girlfriend walked hand in hand toward the door.

Castle's breath caught in his throat. He stared at her, his legs taking him to her, a sense of urgency in his approach. "Hi," he said as he stopped in front of her, his eyes scanning her face.

"Hi to you, Castle," she replied.

"Um . . . drink?" he asked, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the bar.

"That's what I came for," she said, waving at Lanie and Esposito.

She started to move in their direction when Castle said, "Can we talk alone for a few minutes?"

"Well, yes," she said. _God, I need more time to think. How can I tell him how I feel without playing the fool?_

The bartender set a Johnny Walker and soda before her. She raised her glass to Castle's bottle, clinked it, and said, "Here's to new beginnings."

"Indeed," he replied and took a sip, his eyes still focused on her face. He bent his head close to hers. "Seeing Demming before . . . Ryan just told me you had broken off with him before I left for the Hamptons. I remember that you were about to tell me something that day before I left. What was it?"

She froze for a second or two, recalling the crushing pain she had felt when she saw him walk away arm in arm with Gina. She straightened up and said, "You know, many months have passed since then, and I'd like to . . . I feel the need to talk about the present."

"I agree completely," said Castle, grinning. "Mind if I start?"

"Go right ahead," she replied, her own resolve fading like the moon under a hazy sky.

He hesitated for a few seconds, unsure whether to dive in or test the waters first. "Did you enjoy the party? I meant what I said, you know, when I introduced you to the crowd."

Beckett's features softened a bit as she gazed at his face, still close to hers. "Yeah, I wanted to thank you for that, Castle. I was very . . . touched."

He swallowed hard, trying to summon his courage. "You know, years ago, I lost a chance at love when I didn't follow through on my feelings, and . . . my failure to reach out ended a perfectly good relationship. I don't want to make that mistake now. I'm old enough to know better." He looked at her for a reaction, and he didn't see any stop signs. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it gently with his fingers. "Look, I realize you're seeing someone. And I'm taking a helluva risk by saying

this . . . nothing like exposing yourself, you know . . . I mean . . . in a figurative way. I … I broke up with Gina, because . . . I am completely in love with you. For so many reasons—I love your strength, the way you tweak me when I need it, your compassion, so many things. But if you're happy with Josh, well, I'll accept that—I won't like it, but I'll live with that—because ultimately all I want is to know you're content in your life."

As he spoke, Beckett felt as if her body were rising from the floor. As she started to speak, the door to the bar slammed opened and in rushed twenty college students, all wearing T-shirts with the words NYU Mathletes Bar Crawl stenciled on the front. They swarmed the bar, three of them stepping between Castle and Beckett to order the next round of beers.

Beckett lost sight of Castle for a moment, but then walked around the three bodies to find him laughing. "They say timing is everything, right?" he yelled.

She reached out her hand. "Come on, let's go outside for a while."

He grabbed it and followed her through the door, dodging a few more students as they stumbled in.

"Look, they're taking this offstage," Lanie said to Esposito as she saw Beckett and Castle leave. She slid from her stool at the end of the bar.

"Lanie, stop," Javier said, touching her shoulder. "Let them go. We did what we could. They need to do the rest, if they want."

She looked up at him and sighed. "You're right. Maybe they'll come back inside."

The night air was brisk as Castle and Beckett made their way slowly up the block. Two women in their thirties, dressed for the evening, walked toward them. They recognized Castle and tried to catch his eye, but they failed to get his attention.

"So . . . you were saying," Castle said, looking at Beckett and smiling at her.

Beckett smiled back as the women passed by. Her eyes darted to his face, then to the end of the street. "Josh and I broke up last night. Turns out he knew me better than I knew myself. . . ."

Castle grinned. He stopped and turned to face Beckett.

"I've done a lot of thinking over the past twenty-four hours," she said. "I realize that you're not the man I met two years ago. You _are_ a better man, or at least a man I've gotten to know better, more completely." Her eyes now met his as she spoke. "You're still a bundle of contradictions sometimes—arrogant but thoughtful, egotistical but a great dad, self-absorbed, but you care about others, too."

Rick took a deep breath, then sighed. "I've waited months and months for you to see that I'm not _only_ a wise-ass. And I'm really happy that you have." He skimmed his fingers across her jaw. Even in the streetlight, he could see her skin flushed pink.

She smiled. "I told you once before that I enjoy you pulling my pigtails. But it's more than that for me now. Since my mother was killed, I've been kinda numb. It's all been too serious. You know that by now. But here you are, in my life. The job is still hard, but you've turned on a light, and I don't want it to fade away. You've become . . . important to me, Rick. I . . . I . . . love you, too . . . and I'm surprised at that, considering how we started."

"My bluster . . . the way I behaved the first few months I followed you . . . a lot of times, I acted like a jerk, I admit it," he said, looking away from her for a moment. "But you were gutsy enough to never let me get away with it." He met her gaze again. "I want to prove to you that my good outweighs the bad, Kate. I'm asking you for that chance. Hey, I'm vulnerable, too. I know I've made mistakes in my life that I would rather not make again. How do you think _I _feel that my seventeen-year-old daughter is more emotionally intelligent than I am?"

Kate smiled again. "She does have you beat. But . . . I'm willing to take that chance with you." She reached for his hand and they moved to the side of the building, into the shadows. "Look, I know that I keep barriers way up, so it's hard for anyone to get to know me really well."

"Yes, Detective, I'm well aware of that," he said. "But I'm hoping you'll trust me, . . . to trust me with your heart."

"We could be in for some deep disappointment_, _you know," she said, moving close to him.

He nodded in agreement, then said, "But we could also be in for the ride of a lifetime."

Kate moved her head toward him slightly and glanced at his eyes, his mouth. Rick let go of her hand and reached for her face, cupping her jaw and touching her lips with his thumb, electrifying her, erasing any words she could form in that moment. He pulled her to him and pressed his lips gently on hers. His arms slipped around her shoulders, his mouth now firmly, completely over hers. Her hands wrapped around his neck as she melted into his body, her lips pulling his in. Their mouths opened, tongues dancing lightly, both of them engulfed by the passion they had held in for so long.

A few moments went by, and their faces parted slightly, their eyes filled with surprise and promise as they gazed at each other. Kate turned her face to Rick's palm, now on her cheek, and kissed it as she stroked the back of his hand. They felt almost weightless, lifted to the nearest cloud. He turned her face to his and slowly kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, and then he held her tightly, thrilled and free to keep her in his arms for however long she wanted to stay.

Another minute passed when Kate looked at him and said, "I have to confess that Esposito and Lanie tipped me off about your breakup with Gina. It gave me hope and courage to tell you how I feel."

Rick smiled. "Why do you think I told Esposito? I was hoping he'd relay the message to you somehow."

"Well, then, maybe we should give them an update," Kate said.

"Good idea," he said as they walked back to the bar, arms around each other. "But someday you'll have to tell me what brought about Demming's demise."

"OK, but I think you already know."

They spotted Lanie and Javi through the window and walked inside together.


End file.
